PQ 2425 
.L82 
1890 
Copy 1 










<s> ^ 






x <P 









J. 







■ 













ft 



-'- 






























t v <^ 



^ •*: 




\^ " 




*>. 


















. 











- a*' 















8 I \ 


































,\ x 









" , 



^'">., 












- 






4> *, 




































^ ^ 






v * ^ 









!?*% 



i**8fe 









r . 






*' 















* V A 



"-: 



*-^ 












A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON 



A COMEDY 
IN THREE ACTS 

ADAPTED BY 



MRS. BURTON HARRISON 

From the French of Eugene Scribe 

- " 
\ 



f gyUBLIgHIN(B »| 




$NEW*YORK-V 




NEW YORK 

THE DEWITT PUBLISHING HOUSE 



MDCCCXC 



^ 






/ 



V N 



A 



SPECIAL NOTICE. 
Acting Rights Reserved. 



THIS play is duly protected by copyright. Managers 
and actors wishing to produce it must apply to the 
author through the publishers. It may, however, be played 
by amateurs without permission. 



Copyright, 1883, 
By Constance Cary Harrison. 



u-w/vf 



Russian ]-{oneymoon 



BY 



Mrs. BURTON HARRISON 




NEW YORK 
THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON 



GILLISS BROTHERS & TURNURE 

ART AGE PRESS 

♦00 & 402 WEST 14TH STREET, N. 



Scene, RUSSIAN POLAND. 

TIME 1850. 

Acts First and Second. — A room in the house of Ivan 

the Shoemaker. 
Act Third. — A drawing-room in the Chateau of the Count 

Woroffski. 

COSTUMES. 

ALL RUSSIAN, OF THE TIME OF 1850. 

Alexis. — Peasant's blouse and trousers trimmed with fur, 

and at the end of third act full-dress uniform of 

Russian officer. 
Poleska. — First act, rich traveling dress of velvet and fur ; 

second and third acts, peasant's gala dress. 
Baroness. — First part of third act, rich house-dress; end 

of act, traveling dress of velvet and fur. 
Ivan. — Peasant's blouse, full trousers, high boots. 
Micheline. — Peasant's dress. 
Koulikoff. — Blouse and trousers of black velvet edged 

with fur, fur cap. 
Osip. — Peasant's dress. 



CAST OF THE CHARACTERS. 

Madison Square Theatre, 
New York, Monday, April 9, 1883. 

Alexis Petrovitch, - Mr. Frederic Bryton. 

A journeyman (afterward Gustave, Count Woroffski). 
Poleska, ------ Agnes Booth. 

His wife. 

Baroness Vladimir, - Miss Ada Dyas. 

His sister. 

Ivan, _____ Mr. w. J. LeMoyne. 

A master shoemaker. 

Micheline, _ _ _ Miss Estelle Clayton. 
His daughter. 

Koulikoff Demetroyitch, Mr. Max Freeman. 

Intendant of the Chateau Woroffski. 

Osip, _____ Mr. Edwin Arden. 

A young peasant. 

Guards, Peasants, Ladies, Retainers, etc. 



SYNOPSIS. 

THE rising curtain discloses the interior of the house of 
Ivan the Shoemaker. The samovar burns on the 
table. The lamp burns under the Virgin's picture. A 
wolf skin is nailed to the wall. High up above the stove, 
covered with sheepskins, lounges a peasant idly smoking, 
while others drink around the table, during the hour of 
recreation. Outside, the snow is falling in thick flakes ; 
inside the log fire is roaring lustily. Wedding bells are 
chiming ; men and maidens clad in gay peasant garments 
are marching in procession to the church. 

Gustave, Count Woroffski, has married Poleska de Ferm- 
stein, only to find that early in the honeymoon she develops 
such traits of temper and pride as will render their married 
life insupportable, unless he can find some means to subdue 
her. He accordingly goes before her to an estate, lately 
become his by inheritance, where he enters the service of a 
shoemaker, Ivan, under the assumed name of Alexis 
Petrovitch, and awaits the coming of his wife. Upon her 
arrival he tells her that he is Alexis, a serf, having married 
her on a false pretense, and that she, being his wife, is a 
serf too. He sets her to sew and to spin ; he tames her as 
Petruchio tamed Katharine. She, however, manages to 
send an appeal to the Count's sister, for protection, and the 



8 SYNOPSIS. 

second act closes with the arrest of Alexis by his own 
guards. The third act shows a drawing-room in the Chateau 
Woroffski, where the Baroness has summoned Poleska to 
state her wrongs. Poleska obtains from the Baroness an 
order of separation, and, having obtained it, repents, de- 
clares that though her husband is a serf she cannot leave him, 
finally sees Gustave appear in his true character, and is 
folded in his arms. Love has conquered pride. 

This version of Scribe's pretty comedy was given its first 
production at the hands of amateurs, and was such an 
unqualified success that it was soon after staged at the 
Madison Square Theatre, with an excellent cast, where its 
popularity was confirmed by large audiences during a very 
successful run. 

The Critic in its theatrical notes says : " Of all the pretty 
plays which have been seen on the boards of the Madison 
Square Theatre, ' A Russian Honeymoon,' by Mrs. Burton 
Harrison, is the prettiest." 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON 



ACT I. 



Scene I. — (The cottage of Ivan, the shoemaker. 
Door in flat, C. is open, showing snowy landscape. 
R. &* L. are doors leading to rooms in cottage. 
Shoemaker s bench and tools, and a half-finished 
shoe, R. As the curtain rises Ivan, Micheline 
and journeymen are seen seated at breakfast, L. 
Alexis seated apart, R. ; buried in thought. 
Country girls co7?te and go C. D., offering Alexis 
shoes to mend ; move?nent in groups during sing- 
ing of chorus. Russian stove up L., with peasant 
lounging on top. At the rising of the curtain 
a drinking chorus is sung by work?nen at table.) 

Ivan (drinks, sets down glass). — Bravo ! Bravo ! Ah, 
it does my old heart good. It brings back to me my own 
youth, when I could sing with the best of you. 

( Wedding bells heard in dista?ice.) 

Micheline (running to window). — Oh, father, see ! 
There go Olga and Michael, on their way to church to be 
married. Oh ! isn't he a beauty ! 



io A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

Ivan. — Fill up, lads, drink to their health. Good luck 
attend them. (All laugh and drink. Singing heard out- 
side.) 

Micheline. — There, they are coming this way. See ! 
(Looks out of window and waves her hand.) Dear little 
Olga ! And to think I'm not even allowed to go to her 
wedding ! 

Ivan. — Stop grumbling, girl. These weddings turn all 
the young heads. Off, lads, to your work ! 

MICHELINE (springs tip on stool to gaze fro?n window 
and waves hand ). — See the fine silver crown Olga's wear- 
ing. Yes, father, I'm coming ! (Singing grows louder, 
bridal processio?i passes window at back.) A real gold 
chain, too. Yes, father, they've gone now. (Returns from 
window sighing and busies herself about table.) I wish it 
were my wedding day. 

( Workmen go off C. D. F. singing.) 

Ivan (going over to Alexis and slapping him on shoul- 
der). — Well, my good fellow, are you going to mope there 
all day, and go hungry ? 

Alexis. — Answer me one question, Master Ivan. Am I 
paid wages to make merry — or to make shoes ? 

Ivan.— One doesn't interfere with the other, in my creed. 
Look at me, for example. Born a serf and a vassal of the 
Woroffski estate, and consequently a prisoner on this do- 
main, I've managed to build up here in the wilderness a shoe 
business that, I flatter myself, might hold its own in War- 
saw. And my shoes are not made for the country people 
hereabout, I'll warrant you. They, poor miserable creatures, 
go barefoot ; small encouragement for an artist in my line ! 
But my wares go to Germany, even ! Think of it, all Ger- 
many demands them ; no wonder I work and sing from 
morning to night. And you'd better believe I've put my 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. n 

hand to more trades than this. Doctoring, hair-dressing, 
blood-letting — all's one to me. Ah ! if you could have seen 
me pull the miller's tooth yesterday. Ho ! ho ! ho ! roots 
like radishes ! I dragged him out of the chair twice before 
I got it. Ho ! ho ! ho ! and the rascal wanted to put me off 
with a fee of ten copecks ! So much for the gratitude of 
human nature. Ho ! ho ! Why, man, you're as dull as the 
devil's grandfather ! 

Alexis (at bench R. coldly). — Have I not finished the 
task you set for me this morning ? 

Ivan (at C.J. — Certainly. And I haven't a workman in 
the lot who can beat you. Look at that shoe. ( Takes up 
Alexis half-fi?iished work.) Why, a princess might wear 
it, let alone a peasant. 

Alexis (not looking at Ivan). — Then, if I have satisfied 
you, why not let me amuse myself according to my own no- 
tions. It is little to ask, I'm sure. 

Ivan (dryly). — As you like. When the conscience isn't 
clear, one can't look his neighbor in the face, says the pro- 
verb. (Aside to Micheline.) He's a perfect bear, that fel- 
low! 

MlCHELlNE (who has been from time to time striving to 
attract the attention of Alexis, but without success, at 
table L., aside to Ivan). — You are right, father. In the two 
days since he has been here, nobody has gotten a civil word 
out of him ; or a look either, for that matter. Perhaps the 
poor man has been unfortunate. Perhaps he isn't satisfied 
with his pay. 

Ivan (aside, angrily). — Not satisfied with his pay ! Not 
satisfied with ten copecks a day ! Chatter, chatter, when the 
tongue itches, says the proverb. Why, girl, I pay like a 
prince, did you but know it. Hold your tongue now, and get 



12 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

about your work. I never knew a matter yet that was im- 
proved by a woman's interfering. 

(Micheline crosses to R. shrugging her shoulders. 
She manages to drop a bright-colored handkerchief 
from her neck in passing near Alexis, who, roused 
from his abstraction, picks it up with great cour- 
tesy and restores it, not to its right place, as Mi- 
cheline stands coquettishly expecting, but to her 
hand, with a grave bow. Micheline pouts, and 
goes off discomfited, R. D.) 
IVAN (who has put on his spectacles to examine Alexis's 
work, aside). — He's a workman worth holding to — that's 
certain. And an employer ought always to be generous, if he 
finds it to his advantage ! (He again slaps Alexis on shoulder.) 
Tell me, my lad, do you belong to this part of the world ? 

Alexis (coming down R.). — Yes, Master ; I am, like you, 
a Russian Pole. But I've been knocking about in many 
countries these five years past. 
Ivan. — What for, may I ask ? 
Alexis. — In search of fortune. 
Ivan. — Have you found the elusive female ? 
Alexis (laughing). — No, in faith. The jade is like all 
the rest of them. When one sets out in pursuit of her, that's 
just the time she takes care not to let herself be caught. 
Ivan.— The Devil ! 

Alexis. — Not at all ! Only a philosopher. 
Ivan. — Well, my boy, if you want to stay with me, the 
affair is in your own hands. You turned up here a couple of 
days since, and, on the strength of your honest face, I of- 
fered you ten copecks a day. But a good workman is like a 
good shoe, whose value comes out only in the wearing ; and 
the long and short of it is, if you stay I will pay you six co- 
pecks additional. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 13 

Alexis (cutting leather with knife). — I have what satis- 
fies me, and that's enough. (Sighing.) If I had no worse 
trouble now 

Ivan (aside, comical/y). — Aha! it's coming. That sigh 
portends a love scrape. (Aloud.) It can't be my daughter 
Micheline who has been casting sheep's eyes in your 
direction. That wouldn't suit me at all ! 

Alexis (going back to bench, smiling). — Set your mind 
at rest on that score. I wish with all my heart that I could 
be in love with your pretty Micheline. 

Ivan. — What do you mean by that ? 

Alexis. — I mean that, in my position, Master Ivan, a 
man, to be reasonable, must love his equal. But then who 
ever heard of reasonable love ? 

Ivan. — Marry, come up ! Is the fellow mad enough to 
be sighing for some great lady of the Court ? 

Alexis (silting on bench, sadly). — You have hit the nail 
on the head now, master. And a lady, who, to my sorrow, 
is prouder in her own fair self than all the grand-duchesses 
in Russia. 

Ivan (whistling in derision). — Whew ! In love with a 
duchess ! Perhaps that's what you call reasonable love. I 
call it madness. Stick to your last, friend Alexis, stick to 
your last. (Sound of sleigh-bells at back.) Look down, not 
up, if you've got your wits about you. Who comes there? 
Ah, here's Koulikoff Demetrovitch, the Intendant of my 
lord's estate. 

{Enter Koulikoff C. D. F. whip in hand, followed by 
several peasants, who await orders.) 

KOULIKOFF (cracki?ig his whip and speaking off to fol- 
lowers). — Hurry up there, louts, and go to their help. Don't 
stand with your arms crossed staring at me. Shall I go my- 
self. (Stamping.) Fifty blows of the knout to the fellow 



14 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

who gets there last. (Exeu?it peasants C. D. F.) There's 
no better way of expediting matters than a threat like that, 
I've found. Ah ! good morning, Ivan. 

Ivan. — Your servant, Intendant. What's going on 
without ? 

Koulikoff.— A handsome chariot, four horses, two pos- 
tillions and one passenger stuck in the mud-hole opposite 
your door — that's all. 

Alexis (starting, aside).— Poleska ! (Aloud.) Why 
couldn't you have said so before, fellow ? 

(Exit precipitately L. D.) 

Koulikoff (strutting about with offended dignity). — 
Fellow ! fellow ! Hum ! Pray who is this vagabond you 
have picked up ? 

Ivan. — One of my workmen; a rover, returned from 
the wars. He took the place very recently, but he belongs 
to the estate ; and a treasure I've found in him. 

Koulikoff (R.). — Hum ! Can't say much for his man- 
ners. Too free, too free, entirely. Don't know his place. 
What's his name ? 

Ivan. — Alexis Petrovitch ; and a strapping fellow he is, 
as you see. 

Koulikoff (taking snuff, and meditating). — Petro- 
vitch, Petrovitch. He belongs to us. They are registered 
in my farm book. He has come back just in time, as I am 
making up my books. I'll warrant, when my lord the Count 
comes he'll find affairs in order. During thirty years of faithful 
service to the estate, I've not sat with folded arms. For one 
thing, I can't begin to count the knoutings I've administered. 

Ivan (dryly). — I believe you. (Aside.) It is indeed 
thirty years that we have endured his tyranny. Set the 
groom on the master's nag and you'll see the dust fly, says 
the proverb. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 15 

KOULIKOFF (sitting at table). — Well, well, that's neither 
here nor there. If, in my modest way, I have established a 
reputation as a disciplinarian, so much the better for me 
when my lord, the Count, arrives. Let him come when he 
will, he shall find the faithful Koulikoff prepared ! 

Ivan (aside). — He's busy enough ; when he's nothing 
else to do he scolds the little ones and throws stones at the 
pigs. (Aloud.) No news in the Commune, Intendant ? 

Koulikoff.— Times are dull, neighbor. The usual 
trifles ; a knouting here and there, to keep my hand in. Olga 
and Michael married to-day, as you know. Yesterday, I 
stood god-father to Marfa's third brace of young ones. That 
woman is invaluable to the estate ! To-day I clapped that 
old hag Fenitcska into prison for setting fire to the cattle 
shed. The old fool was trying to drive the fiend out of her 
cow with a pan of burning charcoal. 

Ivan (aside). — Pity somebody couldn't try the same ex- 
periment on you, boaster! (Aloud.) No tidings then of 
our gracious little father, the Count ? 'Twill be something 
of a change to the estate, to own a rollicking young soldier 
for a master, instead of the lamented excellency, his uncle. 
(Aside.) Good riddance of the old curmudgeon. (Aloud.) 
New blood, new spirit, as the proverb says ! 

Koulikoff. — The estate is in competent hands, my man ; 
never fear. Not that I object to the new Count's paying us a 
visit. He has never seen the property ; and, at his age, 'tis 
but natural, and I offer no objections. 

Ivan (curiously). — Then we may expect him shortly, In- 
tendant? They tell me great doings are going on at the 
Castle. The steward ransacking the country side for good 
things ; and my girl says she'll never in the world have eggs 
enough for all the housekeeper has ordered. 

Koulikoff (with importance). — Village babble ! village 



1 6 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

babble ! One who is in the confidence of the Count must 
respect himself. I suppose it isn't part of the Intendant's 
duty to take notice of such idle chatter. Must I tell you all 
I know, forsooth ? 

Ivan. — It wouldn't take you long, neighbor. 

Koulikoff (confused).— Well, well, this much I am at 
liberty to disclose, friend Ivan (takes snuff ; Ivan offers to 
use K's box, but is refused with dignity), as you know, the 
late Count, owing to a quarrel with his brother's family, had 
never invited any one of them to set foot on the estate. He 
wouldn't so much as allow the names of his next of kin, Count 
Gustave and his sister, the Baroness Vladimir, to be men- 
tioned in his presence ; so we have never seen either of them. 
But for our old master's dying without having left a will, we 
probably never would. Here, six months after the Count's 
death, I suddenly receive orders to put the castle in readiness 
for a visit from the family. For two weeks I have been in 
hourly expectation of news of their arrival, but not a word 
has come. Such extravagance ! Fresh meat and fowls every 
day, and cords of the best wood burning to waste in the fire- 
places ! 

Ivan (horrified).— No ? 

Koulikoff.— Yes. It's enough to make the old master 
come flying back to swear at us ! 

IVAN (turning thumb downward). — Oh ! they've got him 
safe enough, never fear. (Both laugh and chuckle.) 

Koulikoff. — Where's your daughter, shoemaker? 

Ivan (rising and putting chair back). — Oh ! she's at 
work somewhere. No lazybones when I'm about, Intendant. 

Koulikoff. — Why don't you marry her off, Ivan? A 
strapping girl like that might look for the best of husbands. 
What do you say to me for a son-in-law? 

Ivan (laughing). — You, my son-in-law ! 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 17 

Koulikoff. — Yes, why not. She's a beauty, that girl. 

Ivan. — Excuse me, Intendant, but what a son-in-law 
you'd make ! (Laughs. Koulikoff is confused.) 
(Enter Micheline running, C. D. E.J 

Micheline. — Father, dear ; such an accident — such a 
beautiful lady coming in. 

(Enter Countess Poleska C. D. F. She is followed 
by peasants bearing hand-bags, cloaks, etc. ; others 
group at door and window.) 

POLESKA (waving off peasants, also Ivan and Koulikoff 
who advance, bowing. To peasants). — There, that will do. 
Go back now, and help my servants to regain my possessions. 
My people have orders to see that you are properly rewarded. 
Awkward and stupid are no words for it ! A splendid road ; 
and the idiots pick out the only mud-hole to upset me in. 
(Comes down.) 

Micheline (timidly).— Pray, my lady 

Poleska (C). — Hold your tongue, girl — And, to crown 
my misfortunes, the blockheads, in trying to lift my carriage, 
have broken one of the springs. I am forced to take refuge 
in this miserable hut. Heaven grant me patience to see the 
end of it ! 

Micheline (hesitating). — I was only going to say to the 
lady that it was not entirely the fault of our men. Poor Fe- 
dor worked so hard that he has his foot badly crushed for 
his pains. 

Poleska (impetuously). — Oh, how sorry I am. Poor 
fellow ! Let us hasten to his assistance. 

Micheline. — Not over these roads, with those fine shoes, 
my lady. 

Poleska (rapidly). — Yes, you are right. Besides, I 
could do nothing. What a misfortune ! An honest work- 
man, perhaps the father of a family ! Let a physician be 



1 8 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

summoned immediately. Take my purse. Let the man 
know that I will take care of him. What ! does no one stir 
to obey me ? 

(Micheline carries purse to Ivan ; Koulikoff and 
Ivan exchange looks of astonishment. Ivan goes 
to C. D. F. and gives orders without ; exeunt 
Peasants, C. D. F.) 

KOULIKOFF (bowing obsequiously and rubbing hands). 
— They have this moment gone, my lady. But allow me 
to say that I should like to know 

POLESKA (haughtily). — Pray, who gave you leave to 
open a conversation with me ? 

Ivan (suavely). — This, my lady, is the Intendant, Kouli- 
koff, and he ought to know 

POLESKA (with a gesture of impatience). — He ought to 
know how to hold his tongue ; and you also. 

Koulikoff (enraged ; aside). — Was ever heard such 
insolence ? 

POLESKA (to Micheline). — Tell me, girl, where am I ? 

IVAN (approaching, puts Micheline behind him). — On 
the estate of the Count Woroffski, my lady, and about a 
league from his castle. 

POLESKA (starting joyfully). — On my husband's estate 
— on my own land ! 

Koulikoff (cringing).— What do I hear ? Her Excel- 
lency then, is the wife of our noble lord Gustave de Wor- 
offski ? 

Ivan (takes off apro?i hurriedly and runs his hands 
through his hair). — A Countess in my cottage ! 

Koulikoff (same air of submission). — We had been 
warned, gracious lady, that the Count was about to arrive, 
but he had not condescended to inform us that his bride 
would accompany him. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 19 

Poleska (impatiently). — And the Count has not yet 
come ? He was to reach the castle in advance of me, in 
order to prepare it for my arrival. 

(Ivan and Micheline up stage.) 

Koulikoff. — If the Countess pleases, if such be the 
case, I have not had the honor of being notified. I am 
deeply mortified. 

(As he speaks, Poleska passes by him and walks to 
ajidfro, soliloquizing.) 

Poleska. — My poor Gustave, who would set off before 
me, to arrange everything to suit my fastidious requirements ; 
I dared not tell him that I had almost as soon forego the 
state of a reception suited to our rank, as part with him. 
Soon I shall rejoin him. Oh ! What happiness. ( Turns 
swiftly upon Koulikoff.) It is all your fault. 

Koulikoff (astonished).— Mine ! Your High Nobility ? 

Poleska. — Yes, yours. Are you not the Intendant of 
this property ? 

Koulikoff (swelling). — For thirty years, Your Excel- 
lency, the name of Koulikoff Demetrovitch 

Poleska (interrupting). — Why in the world, then, 
don't you keep the road in order ? That mud-hole is a dis- 
grace to you. Couldn't you guess that I would be in haste 
to rejoin my husband ? Have you no sense — no judgment ? 
Consider yourself dismissed, upon the spot. 

( Turns up stage.) 

Koulikoff (with horror). — Me! I! Koulikoff De- 
metrovitch — dismissed ! 

Ivan (aside). — That woman respects nobody, it is plain. 
(Aloud.) If, until the carriage is repaired, the Countess 
would honor us by taking some refreshment. Sit down, 
for good luck, that the chickens and the bees may multiply, 
says the proverb. 






20 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

POLESKA (languidly seating herself at table L.). — Well, 
yes, perhaps so. But, to save time, tell them to fetch me 
only tea and muffins. 

All. — Tea ! Oh ! yes, my lady, tea ! 

(All rush to table and busy themselves with serving 
a cup of tea from samovar. Poleska tastes the 
mixture and refuses it with disgust.) 

Poleska. — Take this stuff away ! I asked for tea — and 
muffins. 

Ivan (dismayed).— Muffins ! 

Poleska. — Yes, muffins, toasted and buttered ; and a 
little strawberry jam, perhaps. 

Ivan (in despair). — Strawberry jam ! I am afraid it 
will be impossible for us to serve what her Excellency asks 
for. (Reflecting.) There's some prime old cabbage soup, 
now 

Poleska (angrily). — Impossible ! Nothing is impossi- 
ble, if I wish it. Let the muffins be brought immediately. 

Ivan. — Please your ladyship, we don't exactly know what 
they are. 

Micheline (sorrowfully). — We have never had any. 

Poleska. — What audacity ! 

Ivan.— But, my lady 

Poleska. — He dares object (Rises.) Understand 

that my word is law ; not even my husband dares oppose me. 
Heaven made woman to command and man to obey ! 

Micheline (aside).— Can this be true ! I wish it 
were! 

Poleska. — And now, I will have muffins. 

Ivan (aside, ?ni??iicking Poleska). — She will have muf- 
fins. (Exit Ivan R. D.) 

Koulikoff. — If the Countess will permit herself to take 
an hour's repose, I fly to my poor dwelling which is near at 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 21 

hand. I shall fetch some tea ; and, at the same time order 
my kibitka — a little vehicle — which in a short time will 
enable Madame to rejoin her august bridegroom at the 
castle. 

Poleska (joyfully). — So soon ! With Gustave so soon ! 
Oh ! you dear, good, nice, kind, comical old thing ; only hurry 
off, or I shall die of impatience. 

Koulikoff. — And Madame will deign to give me back 
my place ? 

Poleska. — That, or some other. I will see what can be 
done for a reformed Intendant, only fly ! 

Koulikoff. — I go, Madame; launched like a thunder- 
bolt at your command. (Exit Koulikoff C. D. F.J 

Poleska (sitting again at table, L.J. — What a piece of 
work to get what one wants ! And they call Russia a civil- 
ized country. Ah ! I am worn out with fatigue, for I have 
travelled all night. 

Micheline. — All night, my lady! you must indeed be 
tired. 

Poleska. — What would I not have done, to reach him 
the sooner ? My good, kind husband, who lives but to please 
me. The three days that I have been away from him seemed 
an eternity. 

Micheline (surprised). — I thought it was only among 
poor folks that they marry for love, my lady. 

Poleska.— Love, simpleton ! How should you know the 
meaning of the word ! Go, girl, and leave me to myself. 
(Exit Micheline, courtesying, R. D.J Yes, three days ! and 
what have they not taught me. Oh ! Gustave, I shall prove 
myself worthy of the rank and power you have bestowed on 
me. Even the peasants, cringing in this miserable hut, show 
me the homage that awaits me. I, the daughter of a brave 
officer, whose only dower is her beauty, who from childhood 



22 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

has dreamed but of shining in the great world. (Rises.) 
Henceforth I shall reign like a queen. Slaves and vassals 
shall bow before me. Equipages, jewels, palaces, are mine 
to command. Madame la Comtesse de Woroffski. Ah! 
what music to my ears. Ha ! who's there ? who dares in- 
trude on me ? (Enter Ivan R.J 

Ivan. — May it please your ladyship 

Poleska. — You will best please my ladyship by taking 
your ugly face away ! Spare me the sight of you ! If I am 
obliged to remain a while in this hovel, I will try to rest, so 
that Gustave may not preceive the marks of fatigue from my 
long journey. Let your daughter wait on me. I like the 
girl and will take her into my service 

Ivan.— But, Madame 

Poleska (stamping her foot). — Learn once for all, fel- 
low, that I don't know the meaning of a but. If not— (men- 
acing gesture), you understand ? 

(She tur?is i?nperiously and exit R. D.) 

Ivan (ruefully). — I understand. (Sits on bench.) Ugly 
face, forsooth ! Ah ! yes, I understand that my poor master, 
the Count, has got the devil of a temper to deal with ! (Begins 
to work.) Well, here I am, alone like a finger, as the proverb 
says, and free to speak my mind. Marry, come up ! As 
soft as silk, and as fine as a peacock, you'd take her to be — 
the vixen ! But taste the quality of her temper once ! She's 
naught but a Baba Yaga. 

(Enter Alexis L. D.) 

Alexis. — Ah ! Here you are, Master ! And where may 
be the lady whose carriage was upset ? 

Ivan. — The carriage ! I'm not so sure but 'twas a mortar 
and pestle. That's what our witches ride in, through the air. 
( With an anxious look at door R.) The lady ! she's in 
there. Don't speak so loud, I beg of you. Don't stir her up 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 23 

again. Oh ! If you only met her once, you'd not ask to re- 
peat the operation. 

Alexis (with a movement toward door R. which he re- 
presses). — I have met her, to my cost ! Hark ye, friend Ivan ; 
do you remember what I told you a while ago about my 
hopeless passion ? Well, then, I love her ! (He points to 
door R.J 

Ivan (in consternation). — Man alive, you are mad ! You, 
a miserable vassal of her lord's estate, dare to cast your eyes 
upon his bride ! Love her ? Love the most wicked, imperi- 
ous, haughty creature that ever trod the earth ! That is, to 
judge from a very brief acquaintance. 

Alexis (dryly ; putting his hand upon Ivans shoulder). 
— I have enjoyed a more extensive acquaintance with the 
lady. She is my wife ! (Goes up R.) 

Ivan (looking about for escape, then barricading him- 
self behind table). — O ! Lord ! The fellow's raving. I 
might have known what it was from the beginning. Oh ! 
(Alexis retreats to C. D. F. and stands laughing.) 

Alexis. — Listen to me, Ivan. (Ivan comes out cau- 
tiously L. C.) Consumed with love for one as high above 
me as the moon above the earth, I took the name and rank 
of the noble. Count de Woroffski, who was expected to visit 
Buda, where she lived. A small inheritance recently com- 
ing to me, together with the savings of six years past, suf- 
ficed to sustain my assumed position. I married her — I can 
say no more. (He turns his head away.) 

Ivan. — Matrimony is sure to bring down a fellow's spirit, 
sooner or later. But how in the mischief came you to jour- 
ney hither on your honeymoon ? 

Alexis. — The newspapers announced that the Count de 
Woroffski had recently inherited a principality on the bor- 
ders of Russia and Poland. My wife urged me to visit this 



24 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

spot by way of a wedding journey; and I, remembering the 
home of my humble ancestors, was glad of an excuse to 
leave Buda and the embarrassments of my false position 
there. An explanation with her I had deceived could not be 
much longer deferred ; and it were better three hundred 
leagues away from her home and family. Thus a strange 
chance has led me back among my own people. I, who am 
but a poor devil of a workman, a slave, as you say, bring 
with me a bride by birth and education far above me. From 
this point, Ivan, there is no drawing back. Poleska must 
know all, and that without delay. I have faced fire, in my 
day, as bravely as another, I suppose ; but, at this crisis, 
Master Ivan, I'm afraid ! 

Ivan (shrugging). — Small blame to you, comrade. 
She'll inform upon you before the Count, no doubt ; and 
you'll be hung in quick order. Just as little ceremony as she 
used in dismissing our worthy Koulikoff. Ah ! she's a rare 
one. (Gri??iace toward door R.) I'd like to wager that 
she'll bestow on you a larger piece of her mind, in one half 
hour, than my dear departed managed to give me, during 
fifteen years of matrimony — and mine was never backward, 
heaven rest her soul ! 

Alexis (impatiently). — Enough, enough, Ivan. What I 
dread most, I will own, is 

Ivan (interrupts). — The explosion ! I believe you, my 
boy. Make peace with heaven when the petard is launched, 
says the proverb. 

Alexis. — Ivan, you are a father, you have a feeling heart ; 
I've an act of friendship to impose on you. If you could 
only — very delicately — very adroitly — and without giving her 
too much pain — prepare the way for me 

Ivan (promptly). — With the greatest of pleasure in the 
world, my dear fellow ; believe me, the greatest pleasure. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 25 

(Aside.) I mustn't show my feelings too plainly — but oh ! 
what an opportunity for getting even with the little spitfire. 
(Grimaces toward door R. Aloud.) As you say, the awl 
cannot be hidden in the sack much longer, and murder will 
out. 

Alexis (who has been drawing ?iear to and withdraw- 
ing from door R.). — How dare I risk it ? See here, Ivan, 
old fellow ; but a moment since, I had my proud falcon 
tamed, hooded, and resting on my wrist. If I but draw the 
bandage from her eyes — with the speed of light she will be 
off. 

Ivan (puzzled). — She is a high-flyer and no mistake. 
(Aside.) He can't be changing his mind about it. (Aloud.) 
Leave it to me, friend Alexis. Leave it to me. I know wo- 
mankind, and the way to deal with them. I have a feeling 
heart 

Alexis (with emotion). — Be gentle with her, Ivan ! Re- 
member her youth, her solitude — her isolation ! Treat her as 
though it were your own child who had come to you in sor- 
row. 

Ivan. — Trust me to forget nothing, my gallant bride- 
groom. Now, I must be off. I've a little business to attend 
to, before I inform my lady the Countess of her changed po- 
sition. (Movement of Alexis to interrupt.) Oh ! if it's to 
say you don't want to trouble me, Alexis, don't men- 
tion it. I don't mind trouble. I like trouble, when it's for 
a friend. Better get to work again, my boy ; you'll need all 
you can make to keep your wife in silks and fineries. Ho, 
ho, ho ; The Countess ! What a joke ! And Koulikoff, ho ! 
ho! ho! Wait till you see his face! Koulikoff! That's 
the best of all ! (Going off.) I wouldn't give up this little 
commission for fifty copecks ; shoot me, if I would ! (Exit 
C. D. F.) 



26 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

Alexis (at door R.).— At last alone ! Oh ! how hard it is 
to sustain this borrowed character. The deceit is abhorrent 
to me. Better in truth to be an humble shoemaker than a 
nobleman who to his wealth and rank alone owes the affec- 
tion of his wife. Now I am resolved — I will be firm. 
Rude though the test may be, Poleska shall confront it. 
Heaven send that her proud spirit may bend now, or the life 
that is in store for us will be one enduring misery. (Chorus 
heard without, Alexis looks C. D. F.) There is the music 
of the wedding festival ! Yonder goes the bride, hanging 
upon her husband's arm ! He, honest fellow, knows nothing 
of the pangs that rack my jealous breast. I, the bridegroom 
of a week, Gustave de Woroffski, lord of these village folk, 
owner of this vast estate — and husband of a wife I dare not 
trust. 

( The bridal procession passes. Chorus and wedding 
chimes. Alexis stands at window, moodily watch- 
ing the passers-by.) 

Curtain. 



ACT II. 



(The cottage as before, table cleared. Micheline 
comes in on tip-toe R. D.) 

MICHELINE. — Oh ! dear, one ought to have five pairs 
of hands and as many feet, to do my lady's bidding. 
Lucky that she's all tired out with her travelling, and has 
gone to sleep — as peaceful as the wax baby in the Christmas 
manger. Heigh ho ! It's only a princess born that can 
take time to sleep at noonday ! 

(She puts wood in stove L. Enter O sip C. D. F.) 

Micheline. — Oh! it's you, is it? 

Osip. — How now, my damsel fair, always busy ? Come, 
let's be friends again. Say but the word, and I'll kiss you 
as soon as wax my thread. 

Micheline (laying fresh cloth on table L.J. — Indeed, 
you'll do nothing of the kind, Master Osip. Who wants to 
kiss a cross face like yours ? Why, it's as long as our don- 
key's, and about as cheerful. 

Osip. — Pretty talk from a man's promised wife, isn't it. 
It's a shame, I tell you. Your head's just turned by these 
strangers coming here, and my lady taking notice of you. 
And ever since that fellow Alexis crossed the door-sill, 
you've treated me like the dirt under your feet. 

Micheline. — Now, never mind Alexis, there's a good 



28 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

fellow. You're in such a temper. Maybe you were bitten 
by a mad dog on the way ! 

Osip. — And then, after joking and flirting with every new- 
comer, you expect me to dance like a puppet when you pull 
the string. 

Micheline.— When you dance, it will be more like abear 
than a puppet ! Go on ! 

Osip. — Oh ! I could go on for a week if 

Micheline (laughing).— Don't do that, please. Find 
something new to say. 

Osip (angrily). — I'll find something new to say when 
you give me something new to talk about — so, there ! 

Micheline. — Come, Osip, dear, quiet down a bit, and 
I'll try to mend my ways ; what is it you want of me, any- 
way ? 

Osip. — I want you to say you love me. 

Micheline (coquettishly). — And haven't I said so once, 
you greedy fellow. 

(He extends his arms ; she appears to lean toward 
him, then glides tender his arm. and crosses stage 
laughing.) 

Osip. — There ! that's always the way ! I, that buy you 
ribbons from every fair, and gewgaws from every peddler ! 
Haven't I almost broken my neck a-climbing in the tree-tops 
to fetch you birds' eggs ? Do I ever look at the miller's Olga, 
for all she makes up to me on Sundays ; and she called the 
beauty of the village ! 

Micheline.— The miller's Olga is a horrid, forward 
thing ! 

Osip. — Well, she's pleasanter than some I could name. I 
might as well butt my head against a wall, as follow you ; 
you're as cold as any frog. 

Micheline. — If I was made a frog, I can't unmake my- 




RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 29 

self ; and you're very rude to call me names. ( Weeps.) I 
shouldn't think you'd want to be married to a fr-fr-fr-og ! 

Osip (consoling her). — Oh ! Yes I do. Don't cry now, 
and when the peddler comes again, see what I'll get for 
you. 

MlCHELlNE (still sobbing). — Is it a pair of silk stockings 
like my lady's, Osip ? 

Osip. — Whatever you say, my girl, if you're only kind to 
me, the way you used to be. 

Micheline. — Yes, before we loved each other, Osip ! It 
was a great deal nicer then ! Well, well, you silly fellow, 
I'll try, very hard, and perhaps love will come, — the way one 
falls asleep, without knowing how ! Only, do stop being so 
jealous. Is it my fault the men run after me ? Would you 
have me take a stick to my admirers ? 

(Ivan enters C. D. F., during this speech, and 
stands behind the lovers, his stick raised.) 

Osip.— There's more than one of those fellows that would 
be the better for a beating. There's Koulikoff Demetro- 
vitch, forever eyeing you on the sly, the ugly old tyrant. 
And Alexis — I'll spoil his pretty face for him, the coxcomb ! 
And Peter — and Marko — and Nicholas-of-the-herd, and 

Ivan (bringing down stick upon Osip's back). — And 
Osip ! And Osip ! And Osip ! What, what, is this the 
way you idlers waste my time ? Your turn next, my lass. 

Micheline (shrinking). — Oh ! father, pray don't. Here 

comes Koulikoff Demetrovitch, and my lady will be stirring. 

(Osip runs out C. D. F., and, in view of audience, 

runs into Koulikoff, who is seen through window, 

carrying a covered tray, Exit Micheli?ie R. D.) 

I VAN (gesticulating towards Poleska's door R.). — My 
lady ! My lady ! If she'd take my advice, the Countess 
would be in no haste to leave her room ! (Sits at bench.) 



30 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

KOULIKOFF (entering with tray C. D. .FJ — Here I 
am, fairly dripping. ( Wipes his face.) By the greatest 
good luck I found, at home, some tea that I bought of the 
last caravan ; and here are my prettiest cups. 

(He lays table with knife, fork, plates, tea things, 
etc. Ivan seats himself negligently at table.) 

Ivan. — Come, come, Intendant, if you had only known 
what I know, you might have spared your wind and your 
pains. 

(Noise in room R. Enter Micheline hastily R. D.) 

Micheline. — Oh, dear father, if you would only hurry 
with the breakfast. The Countess is awake and is calling 
for her servants. She says we shall all be knouted because 
there is no bell in her room. 

Ivan (crossing to table L. ; contemptuously). — There's 
the big bell that calls our workmen up, let her try that. 

Koulikoff (walking R. hurriedly). — Pray, my good 
girl, say from me to the Countess that I have done my best. 
The tea is served and the little sleigh I promised her is even 
now at the door. 

(He looks up to find that Ivan has helped himself to 
a cup of tea and is drinking it and smacking his 
lips.) 

KOULIKOFF (angrily).— Hollo there ! What in the devil 
are you about ? 

Ivan. — Tasting her tea, as you may see. You're right ; 
it's capital stuff, and I drink to her health. 

Micheline (alarmed). — Tasting my Jady's breakfast! 
Oh, father, what will become of us ? 

Koulikoff (infuriated). — What profanation ! Fellow, 
do you know with how many blows of the knout you'll pay 
for this joke ? 

(Poleskas voice from room R.).— Micheline, Micheline. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 31 

MlCHELlNE (wringing her hands). — Oh, father, do get 
up ! If she should come out now and see you ! Yes, my 
lady, coming. (Exit Micheline R. D.) 

Ivan (doggedly). — And pray why should I get up in the 
presence of a workman's wife, my workman's wife ? 

KOULIKOFF (lifting hands). — His brain is turned by so 
much honor to his house ! 

Ivan. — Not at all. You were never more mistaken. It 
is she (points with thumb over shoulder to R. D.), who owes 
me respect. This would-be sovereign is no more the wife of 
our Count than my daughter is. 

Koulikoff.— Is this true ? Not a Countess ! (Run- 
ning to door C. D. F.) Hollo there, Michel, you may drive 
my sleigh back to the stable. 

Ivan. — She's nothing but the wife of Alexis Petrovitch, 
my journeyman, and a serf on the Woroffski estate. 

Koulikoff (piously).— The Lord forgive her for a lying 
jade. But how can one be sure of anything ? 

Ivan. — I have it from Alexis himself. 

Koulikoff.— The wife of a serf? And she takes the 
liberty of being hungry and thirsty ! Bah ! I'm hungry and 
thirsty. You're hungry and thirsty. Permit me, friend Ivan. 
(He sits at table and pours out tea ; they simultane- 
ously attack the food. Loud discordant bell rings 
offR.) 

Ivan (tranquilly, with mouth full). — That's the alarm 
bell for her breakfast. Let her ring ! 

(Door R. opens. Enter Poleska like a whirlwind, 
followed by Micheline. Both men keep their seats, 
laughing insolently.) 

Poleska. — Was ever such impertinence ? To keep me 
waiting like this. I who never wait. I who have not yet 
breakfasted. 



32 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

Koulikoff (over his shoulder; taking a bite). — That's 
exactly my case. Ho ! ho ! 

Poleska (trembling with rage). — What do I see ? To 
your feet, barbarians, and remember where you are. 

Ivan. — Take it easy, good wife, take it easy. Less strife, 
long life, says the proverb. Always keep your temper — al- 
ways — especially while fasting. Ho ! ho ! ho ! 

Micheline. — Great heavens ! My lady, my father is 
surely mad. (Aside.) He will never be allowed to live 
after this. 

Poleska. — I will give them a lesson in respect. 

(She passes swiftly between the men, twitches the 
napkin on which the breakfast is laid, and drags 
it away. Everything crashes to the ground.) 

KOULIKOFF (dancing with angry excitement). — My 
best Nankin cups. Oh ! my beautiful dishes ! Her husband 
shall pay for this. 

Poleska. — I will pay you on the spot. (She boxes his 
ears.) In one hour both of you shall be hanged. 

Koulikoff (rubbing his cheek). — Ah! ha! Madame, 
you shall sing a different song when the Count hears of your 
assault upon his honored Intendant ; you shall see, then, 
how in this part of the world we punish a disobedient and 
rebellious vassal. 

Poleska (scornfully). — A vassal ! 

Koulikoff. — Yes, a vassal. For that's what you are, 
in spite of your grand ways. You're no more of a Coun- 
tess than I am — and (to audience) I look like a Countess, 
don't I? 

Micheline.— What can this mean ? 

Ivan (triumphantly). — It means, my girl, that this 
young woman is not married to our Count de Woroffski, 
but to Alexis Petrovitch, his serf and my journeyman ; a 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 33 

gallant young fellow, and too good for her, according to my 
way of thinking. (Poleska makes a movement of horror, 
and stands gazing at him with dilated eyes.) He married 
her in Buda the other day, under false pretenses to be sure ; 
but I think any eye witness would allow he has got his pun- 
ishment already. If you don't believe me, here he comes. 
Koulikoff, Micheline, let us leave the happy couple to them- 
selves. I've no fancy for remaining on the battle field, when 
shot and shell are flying about my ears. 

( Exeunt Ivan and Koulikoff R. D. bowing with mock 

solemnity ; Micheline going last, looking back 

with sympathy ; Ivan drags her angrily away.) 

Poleska (at table L.). — Oh ! my husband, why are you 

not here to protect your wife against the insolence of these 

barbarians ; against dangers which I do not understand ? 

(Enter Alexis C. D. F. He comes slowly up behind 
her.) 
Alexis.— Poleska ! 

Poleska (hearing his voice, turns with delight, offer- 
ing to throw herself in his arms). — Oh ! Gustave ! 

(He makes no movement in return, but stands with 
folded arms before her.) 
Poleska (perceiving his peasant's dress, utters a cry 
and staggers). — Gustave ! It is true then ! Great Heavens ! 
And I live ! 

(Alexis starts forward as if to lake her in his arms, 

but restrains himself and stands with bent head 

as before.) 

(Poleska catches at chair behind her and faces him, 

one hand holding her heart, her breath coming 

rapidly.) 

Alexis. — Yes, Poleska. it is true. You see before you a 

man whose love for you conquered his reason. Too poor 



34 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

and lowly to dream of winning you in my own estate, I was 
madly tempted to borrow from another the semblance of 
those advantages that might make me, in your sight, your 
peer. Now that you know my crime, judge me ; not as Gus- 
tave, your lordly lover — but as Alexis, your guilty husband, 
who adores you, yet dares not take your hand. 

Poleska (wildly). — Oh ! No, never, never ! Leave me, 
sir. You — a peasant — a serf — a vile impostor! Oh, my 
father ; could you but know the degradation of your child ! 
What punishment could be found that would equal such a 
crime ? 

Alexis. — In your country, death! Knowing that, as I 
did, confess that I loved you to risk it? For be he lord or 
peasant, the man who risks his life to gain the object of his 
devotion proves that his love is real. 

Poleska.— Love ! The love of a serf ! What love 
could give you the right to ally yourself to one of us ? 

Alexis. — You are the child of an officer who, without 
birth or fortune, has attained his present rank by bravery 
and personal merits alone. I, too, have served as he did — a 
Polish soldier fighting under the banner of France! If at 
the close of the campaign I resumed my former means of 
gaining a livelihood, why should I blush for it ? The money 
I had laid up was sufficient for my wants, till, in an evil 
hour, I met you. That day I knew that I was poor ! Why 
had I not treasures, palaces, equipages, jewels to lay at your 
feet? The Count de Woroffski would have shared with you 
his fortune — more he could not do. I gave you my all. For 
you I have sacrificed everything, my future — my life, per- 
haps. In return, punish me if you will, pardon me if you 
can, — but, pity me, Poleska. 

POLESKA (after a minute of silence, without looking at 
him). — Go ! 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 35 

Alexis (beseechingly). — Poleska ! 

Poleska. — Call me no more by name. I owe allegiance 
to the noble Count de Woroffski. None to the slave, Alexis. 

Alexis (in a changed tone). — One moment, Madame ; 
in marrying me then, you thought only of my wealth and 
titles ? 

Poleska. — You are free to suppose so. 

Alexis. — I appeal to your heart. Try to remember how 
many times you said that none of these mere externals could 
add to or take from your tender wifely love. " Gustave " you 
murmured to me — " if fate had placed you in the lowest rank, 
my heart would have owned you only." 

Poleska (catchifig her breath). — That — that was said 
to one I still could respect. 

Alexis (proudly). — Enough! Love can bear all but 
scorn. And now, since it is the moment for revelation, let 
me say to you, Madame, that, in whatever condition of life 
you might be placed, a nature like yours would make the 
misery of your husband. 

Poleska (throwing back her head). — Mine ! 

Alexis. — Yes, yours. Until now, I have schooled myself 
to bear with your scornful pride ; but, after all, I am your 
husband ; and I assert my authority. 

Poleska (indignantly). — You have no authority. The 
marriage is not valid. 

Alexis (slowly and decisively). — Our marriage holds. 
The contract which you cared not to examine, bears the sim- 
ple name of Alexis Petrovitch — soldier and shoemaker — and 
you, like your husband, are a slave of the Count de Wor- 
offski. 

Poleska (fiercely). — It is false ! I am free ! I obey no- 
body. 



36 A RUSSIAN HOXEYMOOX. 

Alexis. — Excepting me, your lord and master. Until 
now I have entreated. Now I command — 

(Enter Ivan and Micheline C. D. F. and come down 
softly.) 

POLESKA (satirically). — What you command, sir, is ab- 
solutely without importance in my eyes. 

Alexis (continuing as if she had not spoken). — and you 
will obey. 

Poleska (folding her arms disdainfully). — That, we 
shall see. 

Ivan (interrupting). — Hollo there ! A row in the house- 
hold already ? 

Alexis. — Not at all, master. My wife is submitting with 
the best grace in the world. 

Ivan (raising hands and eyes). — Then a miracle has been 
worked, that is all ! 

ALEXIS (sarcastically). — Yes, a miracle. And now, good 
master, instead of one servant you will have two. My wife 
will help Micheline at her housework. 

Poleska. — Housework ! 

Alexis (coldly to Poleska). — And you will ask Micheline 
to kindly lend you some clothes more suitable to your 
changed fortunes. Micheline, my good girl, I am sure you 
will oblige my wife. 

Poleska (scornfully). — Your wife ! 

Micheline (timidly). — My Sunday best is at your 
service, my lady ; and Nika says the blue bodice is quite 
lovely. 

Poleska (crossing R.). — Poleska de Fermstein stoop to 
wear a peasant's garb ? Really, sir, your insults are accu- 
mulating. 

(Ivan attempting to pat her on the should, 
fiercely repulsed by Poleska ; Alexis makes a 




A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 37 

threatening movement toward Ivan, unseen by 
Poleska, who drops exhausted upon bench R. 
covering her eyes with her hands). 

Ivan. — Ta ! Ta ! Ta ! good wife. Is that the way for a bride 
to talk in her honeymoon ? I see you are not acquainted with 
our honest Muscovite fashion of settling such connubial dif- 
ficulties. It's an old saying, friend Alexis, that a dog, a wife, 
and a walnut tree, the more you beat them the better they'll 
be. Allow me to recommend it. The method is rarely 
know to fail among us. Ah ! if you had only seen my dear 
departed. She knew how to take a husband's chastisement, 
good soul. 

MlCHELlNE (kneeling at Poleska 's side). — Yes, and 
'twas said the last one made an end of her. 

Poleska (bursting into tears). — Oh ! what savages are 
these among whom I have fallen ! 

( Micheline comforts her.) 

Alexis (to Ivan angrily). — Hold your tongue, master ; 
you go too fast. Come, come, wife, you must obey more 
promptly. Go at once with Micheline into your chamber. 

Poleska (rising co?ifronts him). — I will not go. 

Alexis.— You will go. 

POLESKA (faltering a little).— I — I will not. 

Alexis (imperatively a?id with a threatening gesture). 
— You shall go at once — or 

Poleska (impetuously). — Yes, I go ; but of my own free 
will, remember. I go, to avoid insult from one I despise. 
Could I ever again be glad, it would be to free myself from 
your detestable presence. 

(Exit R. D. followed by Micheline.) 

Ivan (aside, rubbing his hands gleefully). — It's her turn, 
now, the little spitfire ! (Aloud.) I congratulate you, my 
boy. Well done, for a beginning ! 



38 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

Alexis (up C.J. — Yes, it is well done, considering that I 
have the chill of death in my heart. Never mind, having 
begun, I'll go on. 

Ivan. — That's the spirit. A little perseverance, and all 
will go well. 

(Noise as of furniture upset heard off R.J 

Alexis. — Don't mind it. It is only my wife at her 
toilet. 

Ivan (with a shrug). — Lively times, aren't they ? As I 
was going to say, your only danger lies in the chance of her 
family taking up cudgels in her behalf. 

Alexis. — It was for that reason that I brought her here, 
safely beyond the reach of their vengeance. And now, since 
I am resolved to settle in these parts, what do you say to 
selling me this cottage, with the furniture and tools, as it 
stands ? 

Ivan (up C.J. — Willingly, my boy. You are a capital 
workman, and a worthy fellow. You'll find the cottage 
comfortable ; and, after all, there's no reason why you should 
not enjoy life here, when you've got your wife in harness. 
The things are not new, but they are serviceable. Look at 
that stove. There you can lie and smoke your pipe in peace, 
while she sweeps, chops the fire wood, hoesjhe barley patch, 
rubs the horse down, or performs various other little duties 
of the kind. 

Alexis (laughing J. — That's a fair division of labor now, 
isn't it? 

Ivan. — Oh ! We Muscovites know how to make women 
pay for the salt in their porridge. These benches are heir- 
looms. They belonged to my father's great grandfather. 
This table was bought brand new at the Bazaar — fifteen 
3'ears ago. Then there's the old red cow, she that was 
sprinkled with holy water by the priest, last St. George's 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOOX. 39 

Day; you might call her lean, but it's in the breed. Let me 
see — I'll throw in the cow and the good-will of the shop, 
for — I always like to be generous — suppose we were to fix 
the price at a thousand roubles, hey ? 

Alexis. — That's generous, certainly — to yourself. 

Ivan. — Bah ! That's no price at all for one who has been 
a wealthy nobleman. 

Alexis (with an air of severity). — But for a poor 
workman, Master Ivan ? 

Ivan (at R. eyeing him curiously). — It appears to me he 
hasn't parted with everything belonging to his former estate. 
A hint is as good as a thump, says the proverb. 

Alexis (resigning his air of good fellowship). — Agreed, 
Master ; a thousand roubles be it. I have sent our carriage, 
the lady's maid and lackeys who accompanied my wife upon 
her journey, back to Wilna. From the sale of my equipage 
I will pay the money you demand. 

Ivan. — Agreed. And may God give you health and the 
rank of General, friend Alexis. 

(More noise heard off R. Micheline runs i?i R. 
D. which is slammed after her with violence.) 

Micheline. — Oh, what a time. You will never in the 
world be able to manage her, Alexis. All the chairs and 
tables knocked over, two new pitchers broken, our beautiful 
plaster cast of the Kremlin smashed. And I telling her, all 
the while, how angry father will be. 

Ivan. — Angry. And what is it you know, boaster, ex- 
cept to go to merry-makings and set traps for a husband. I 
am never angry. Besides I have just concluded the sale of 
all those things to Alexis Petrovitch, here. 

Alexis (laughing). — You can afford to be philosophi- 
cal, Master. 

Micheline. — And when I gave her my beautiful Sunday 



40 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

clothes that Nika made — they are perfectly new, and fitted 
her as if they had been made for her — she dashed them on 
the floor, and trod on them. Sooner than work, she said, 
she'd starve herself, and then she would at least have the 
pleasure of getting you hanged. 

Ivan. — The malice of a wife. 

Micheline. — Then she saw two of our workmen talking 
under her window ; she uttered a cry of joy, pushed me to the 
door, slammed it in my face, and then 

Ivan. — She'll never submit, not she. 

Alexis. — I fear not — see, the door is opening — here she 
is. Leave us ! 

Ivan (going). — Come along, Micheline. You'd better 
try the good old Muscovite custom, Alexis. Beat your furs 
on feast days and your wife on all days, says the proverb. 

(He makes the motion of dealing. Alexis frowns 
and pushes him from the room. Exeunt 
Micheline and Ivan L. D. Enter Poleska R. D. 
dressed as a Russian peasant.) 

Poleska (speaking off R.). — Quick! Quick, and you 
shall have ten roubles for your pains. Die! Ah, no. It 
were sweeter far to live and be avenged. 

(Crossing Alexis without looking at him.) 

ALEXIS (at R. surveying her with admiration). — I am 
enchanted by your submission. Really, you gain by it more 
than you dream of. The costume suits you to perfec- 
tion. 

POLESKA (at L. over her shoulder). — Indeed. 

Alexis. — May I ask with whom you were conversing just 
now ? 

Poleska (over her shoulder). — Certainly. A young 
peasant I had summoned beneath my window to do an 
errand for me. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 41 

Alexis (courteously). — And the errand ? 
Poleska (meaningly). — You shall know, in time. 
Alexis. — I am satisfied to wait. And now, my dear, the 
day is passing by ; you have assumed your peasant garb, sup- 
pose we set to work. 
Poleska. — I work ? I stoop to work ? 
Alexis (gently). — No one stoops to honest labor. I may 
as well tell you that I have just bought this little property 
from Ivan. We are at home, you see. A tiny place, but 
weather-tight ; we will pass many a cosy winter's evening 
here. Suppose you begin by putting things to rights, my 
dear. A peasant's wife must learn to know the use of this, 
for instance. (He holds out to her a broom from R.) 
Poleska (with an outburst). — No, I refuse ! I — 

(Alexis again offers her the broom, with a bow, as in 

the minuet de la cour ; Poleska looks at him with 

scorn, then snatches the broom from his hand, 

and falls to sweeping angrily. She lifts the shoes 

disdainfully, and ends by throwing them wildly in 

every direction, some grazing Alexis, till he takes 

refuge on the stove, laughing.) 

Alexis (aside). — What a pretty, trim figure, and how 

the rich blood mantles her cheek at the unwonted exercise ! 

(Aloud as Poleska sinks exhausted on chair L.) Well 

done, well done, my dear ; and now, as a peasant's wife is 

never idle, here is another task awaiting you. 

(He goes back and lifts a spinning wheel from its 

corner. Poleska repulses him scornfully. Alexis 

makes a gesture enjoining obedience. She restrains 

herself with extreme effort.) 

Poleska (aside). — Revenge is close at hand. Ah, why 

can I not be satisfied to bide my time. (Aloud, while Alexis 



42 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOOX. 

is placing the spinning wheel i?i front of her.) It is impos- 
sible for me to refuse anything so courteously requested. 

Alexis (going back to shoe-bench and resuming work, 
with an air of satisfaction). — This is as it should be. 

(He begins the verse of a merry song, Poleska irritated 
by his cheerful air, works by fits and starts, tang- 
les her thread, finally rises, takes out the distaff, 
tears off the flax and throws it at his feet. 
Alexis rises, taking afresh distaff with flax nicely 
arranged from the corner, goes toward Poleska, 
sets wheel in order, and laying his hand on her 
shoulder, gently compels her to resume her seat.) 
Alexis (smiling). — Try again, won't you ? The second 
time is more likely to be a success. 

Poleska (resigning herself). — You are really too oblig- 
ing. So much courtesy and high bred grace are hardly to be 
looked for in a serf. 

(Alexis bows, returns to bench, and resumes his song. 

Poleska spins rapidly, then furiously fast. Very 

soft music here, and off and on till the end of Act 

III.) 

ALEXIS (dropping his work and watching her). — Take 

care, pray, you will wound your hand. That pretty hand 

belongs to me, remember. It is my chief treasure, and I 

guard it with my life. 

(Makes a movement toward her.) 
Poleska (drawing back nervously). — You forget your- 
self, sir. 

Alexis (smiling and resuming bench). — No, I do not, 
Madame. (Sadly.) Yes, it is mine, struggle as you may, 
Poleska. Do you know that while sitting here watching 
you, I am foolish enough to think that even in this poor, 
sordid place we may be happy if you will it so. It is our 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 43 

own, this humble home, and here the distractions of the 
great world can never come to us. In that world, a wealthy 
nobleman belongs to his duties, to the public — his wife to 
society — to her pleasures. They have hardly time to love 
each other, as we may, Poleska. (He gradually draws 
nearer to her. Poleska sits, with drooping head and 
hands crossed in her lap.) Think of it only, dearest, as I 
do. Look through my eyes into the future, and see your- 
self, exiled from the Court, to be sure, but enshrined in a 
loving heart forever. I will work for you, I will spare you 
all pain, I will worship you, loving as man never loved be- 
fore 

(String music, tremolo, during this scene. He kneels 
beside her and puts his arms around her. Poleska 
starts violently, upsetting wheel. She springs 
from her chair and jnotions him away.) 

Poleska (agitated). — Go, go, I cannot bear it. ( With 
her former cold manner.) Go back to your work. 

(A noise outside. Enter Ivan and Micheline run- 
ning C. D. L. Workmen, peasants, etc., follow.) 

Ivan. — Bad luck, bad luck, Alexis. Let us fly at once. 
The guards already surround the house. This way, by 
Madame's chamber window. You and I are to be made 
prisoners, perhaps hung, to satisfy that little spitfire wife 
of yours. Oh, Alexis Petrovitch, this never would have 
happened, had you begun in time to practice Muscovite cus- 
toms. 

Micheline (darting back from R. D. where she has 
gone to look for a way of escape). — Too late ! Too late. 
The way is cut off. Oh, Alexis ! Oh, my poor, old 
father ! 

Alexis (at R. C. calmly). — This is your work, Po- 
leska. 



44 A RUSSIAX HOXEYMOON. 

POLESKA (standing L. her head thrown back triumph- 
antly). — This is my work, Alexis Petrovitch. 

(Enter Koulikoff, ivith guards C. D. F.) 

Koulikoff. — I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but my orders 
from the Castle are imperative, and admit of no delay. 

Ivan (crouching on bench, Micheline at his side ; rue- 
fully). — And what will they do with me, neighbor Kouli- 
koff? 

Koulikoff (at R. C. shrugging his shoulders). — Hang- 
ing is suggested ; but knouting may be accepted in its stead. 
(Ivan winces.) 

Alexis (at L. C.J. — At least, Intendant, you will explain 
the nature of the charge ? What is our offense ? 

Koulikoff (shrugs shoulders again). — Offense? Oh, 
that's neither here nor there, when I have orders from the 
Castle. Say abduction, say conspiracy, say illegal detention 
of this female here. Who knows. Not Koulikoff. For 
thirty years it has been my habit to apply punishment to the 
serfs whenever the least opportunity offered. Let no man 
cross the path of Koulikoff when in pursuit of duty. Guards ! 
(Guards make forward movement.) 

Alexis (waves guards back). — One moment, my good 
men — (Draws near Poleska L.) You have avowed this 
to be your act, Poleska. Then, be the consequences what 
they may, I submit. But a moment since, I was fond 
enough — fool enough — to dream that your heart felt a thrill 
answering to mine. How bitterly I deceived myself. At 
that very time you were counting the moments to elapse be- 
fore I should be torn from your side forever. Farewell! 
Think sometimes, not alone of the shame and ignominy of 
the lot to which you have condemned me (he dra:. 
but of my changeless love. 

Poleska. — Go ! (She waves him away. Alexis g 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 45 

then returns with impetuous movement ; guards crossing 
bayonets to bar his way.) 
Alexis. — Poleska ? 

(Poleska draws herself up to her full height, 
and points to the door. Guards close around 
Alexis and lead him away. Tableau. Curtain. 
As curtain rises on recall, stage is cleared of peas- 
ants, soldiers, etc. Alexis seen without in custody 
of guards. Poleska makes movement toward him 
with outstretched arms C. Tableau.) 
Guard. 
Alexis. 
Guard. 
Micheline, Koulikoff. Poleska. 

Ivan. 

Curtain. 



ACT III. 

(A drawing-room in the Chateau W or off ski, richly 
furnished, with furs, etc. Doors R. L. and C. in 
fat, sofa R., arm chairs, writing table, etc. Kou- 
likoff is discovered arranging the furniture.) 

KOULIKOFF.— At last everything is ready. Ouf ! Since 
her arrival here, that little Baroness has kept me on 
the trot. What with her maids, and her lackeys, her pages 
and her pug dogs, her travelling cat and her travelling doc- 
tor, I've got my hands full ! Orders and counter-orders, till 
my brain is fairly buzzing ! And the work I've had to get 
our people in training. All hurrying and scurrying, hither 
and thither, everybody asking at once what he is to do. I've 
cut it short by ordering every man Jack of them to keep in 
the place I've given him, and not to stir from it if he 
don't want a taste of the lash. Trust Koulikoff to keep the 
idle vagabonds in order. (Enter Micheline L. D.). 

Micheline (pleadingly). — God be with you, neighbor. 
I've been looking for you everywhere to ask if you won't help 
us a bit in our trouble. I know we can depend on you to say 
a good word for my father to the Baroness. 

Koulikoff (aside). — She's changed her note, the pretty 



4? 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 47 

pigeon. (Aloud.) Young woman ! On one thing you may 
rely. If anybody can succeed in influencing the Baroness, in 
your behalf and that of your unfortunate father, you have 
done well to apply to Koulikoff Demetrovitch. 

MlCHELlNE (joyfully).— Oh ! how lucky that we have a 
friend in you. How good you are, Intendant. 

Koulikoff. — So it is said ! so it is said ! but perhaps 
they flatter me. 

MlCHELlNE. — Only get my poor old father set at liberty, 
and I'll be grateful to you forever. 

Koulikoff (aside). — Now's my chance. (Aloud.) Do 
you know, Micheline, for a long time past I've been wanting 
to ask a favor of you ? 

Micheline. — Of me ? 

KOULIKOFF (drawing near to Micheline who retires). 
— Yes, of you, pretty one. Don't be afraid, it's only your 
advice. 

Micheline (with importance). — Oh, my advice ! Dear 
heart, you're welcome to that. 

Koulikoff (both at R. H.). — Yes ; give your whole 
mind to the subject, if you please. Fix your close attention 
on what I am about to say. (Micheline nods assent.) In 
the first place, in giving me an answer, you must promise 
not to flatter me, but to speak your mind quite frankly. 
(Micheline nods again.) In these days a good wife is not 
so easy to find, eh, Micheline ? (Micheline nods, but draws 
away from him.) (Drawing nearer.) One of the kind 
that are up early at the wheel, that dust and sweep till the 
house is like a honey-comb. A tidy girl who runs about 
singing at her work ; eh, Micheline ? (Micheline draws away, 
Koulikoff following her.) They say it is harder still to find 
a good husband ; a hale, hearty man, not young enough to 
be a fool ; a man looked up to and admired by everybody ; a 



48 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

man who can afford to give his wife white bread every day, 
a gold chain for her neck, a carpet on the floor, and red 
wine to drink on holidays ; eh, Micheline ? 

MlCHELINE (looking back at door a?id curtseying). — 
And was that all you had to say to me, sir ? 

Koulikoff — Not at all ! I had just begun. The fact 
is, that I am thinking about getting married. How does it 
strike you, Micheline ? 

Micheline (coquettishly). — You want a fair answer, 
neighbor ? 

Koulikoff (trying to take her hand). — It will never be 
so fair as the speaker, pretty one. 

Micheline (crosses herself). — Pray don't, sir; praises 
bring ill luck, you know. 

Koulikoff. — Shall I take this for an answer, 
Micheline ? (Offers to kiss her.) 

Micheline (eluding him, boxes his ears and runs to 
L. D.). — Take that for an answer, you ugly old gray- 
beard ! (Exit Micheline, laughing L. D.) 

Koulikoff (rubbing his ear). — The second to-day; 
the jades are all alike. " He that has burnt himself with hot 
milk, should blow on cold water." This is the last time a 
woman shall get the better of Koulikoff, I'll swear ! By the 
beard of Beelzebub, I'll not submit to it ! 

(Enter the Baroness Vladimir C. D. F. Koulikoff 
starts back in dismay and assumes a cringing atti- 
tude. 

Baroness. — What ! has my brother not yet arrived ? 

Koulikoff (at L. obsequiously). — No, Madame la 
Baronne. 

Baroness. — Tiresome Gustave ; he always was the most 
provoking dear fellow in the world. Here have I journeyed 
all the. way from Warsaw on purpose to give him a joyful 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 49 

surprise, and to greet my new sister-in-law, hoping to find a 
house full of people in honor of the nuptials, and all sorts of 
gayety. On the contrary, gloom, silence, desertion surround 
me, and I have to do my own honors. At least, you have 
news of your master, Intendant ? 

Koulikoff. — No, Madame. The Count has not yet 
honored his new property by a visit. 

Baroness (looking around her). — Certainly, this is 
superb. Such a gallery for balls out yonder. The rest of my 
luggage has been carried to my apartments ? 

(Koulikoff bows.) 

Baroness (walking to and fro). — And how in the name 
of wonder, am I to amuse myself until they come? 
( Yawns.) Positively I begin to be stupefied already. Ah ! 
I remember. I am to administer justice, after the fashion of 
this barbarous region. I am to be the arbiter of Fate in this 
most romantic of love affairs. Delicious ! I had quite for- 
gotten my prisoners and my protege. It all comes of 
Stephanie's stupidity in spilling chocolate on my china silk 
dressing gown. Fly ! Intendant, and fetch these people to 
me. How stupid you were not to have thought of it be- 
fore. 

Koulikoff. — If Madame la Baronne pleases, Madame 
la Baronne did not give me time to think. (Aside.) Oh ! 
these fine ladies (Exit ruefully C. D. F.) 

Baroness. — Koulikoff ! 

Koulikoff (re-entering). — Madame la Baronne ! 

Baroness. — Stay a moment, and don't go rushing off like 
that, when you know I have something to say to you. I — 
ah — gave the orders for the arrest rather hurriedly, you know, 
and I don't quite understand the merits of the case. 

Koulikoff. — Madame la Baronne's orders were quite as 
hurriedly obeyed, I assure her. 



50 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

Baroness. — Don't waste time now, but tell me all about 
it. As soon as I arrive in my brother's castle, almost before 
I finish warming my feet, a note is put into my hand, im- 
ploring the protection of the Chateau Woroffski for an 
innocent young woman against the wrong and perfidy of 
barbarians who seek to hold her prisoner. I might have 
lived for years in Paris and nothing so delightful would have 
occurred. I was in haste, as I remarked before, so I just 
signed a general order to arrest everybody concerned and 
hold them until my brother's arrival. This is such a conven- 
ient country for that sort of thing ! 

Koulikoff. — It is indeed, Madame la Baronne. 

Baroness. — What do you mean, man ? • Don't presume 
to agree with me when I state a general proposition. 

Koulikoff. — Perhaps Madame would like to examine 
the witnesses in the case ? 

Baroness (clasping hands). — The witnesses — what are 
they ? Yes, of course. (Settles herself o?i sofa R.) This 
is exactly like amateur theatricals — without the quarrelling. 
Bring in your witnesses, Intendant. 

(Exit Koulikoff L. D. after putting foot stool, etc. 
Re-enter Koulikoff followed by Ivan and Michcl- 
ine L., Koulikoff goes behind sofa R.J 

Baroness (disappointed).— What— that old thing— and 
a girl of her age ! preposterous ! Well, my good man, and 
what is the sad story they are telling me about your enticing 
this poor little creature into a marriage against her will. 
Fie, for shame ! one wouldn't have expected it of such a re- 
spectable looking, venerable old party as you are. By the 
way, what a capital figure you'd make for a fancy ball ; an 
elderly Adonis, ha-ha-ha ! 

Ivan (L. C. puzzled ; aside). — Women have long hair 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 51 

and short wits; says the proverb : but I'm blest if I know 
what to make of this one. 

Koulikoff (L. of sofa). — Your pardon, Madame, but 
you are laboring under a misapprehension. This man is 
not the principal in the case ; but only the shoemaker at 
whose cottage the affair occurred, and the girl is his 
daughter, Micheline. (Aside.) Little viper ! 

Baroness (sharply). — His daughter ; then they are not 
the right ones, after all. What a dunce you are, Intendant, 
to have allowed me to think these people were the — ah— 
principals in the case ! They don't amuse me in the least ! 

Ivan. — If I am permitted to explain in full, my lady 

Baroness (yawning). — Oh, pray don't, my good man. 
I'm convinced that you are long-winded. People in your 
class of life always are, you know. Koulikoff, I think, on 
the whole, I am tired of witnesses. Bring me something else. 

Koulikoff. — And Madame has, then, no special orders 
in reference to these prisoners ? 

Baroness. — Keep the old man somewhere, and let the 
girl go to my apartment. I shall try to coax that jealous 
Stephanie into letting me have her for an under-maid. 

Ivan (aside). — Takes seven women to make one soul, 
says the proverb. Whew ! only fancy seven like that ! 

(Exeunt Ivan and Micheline L. D.) 

Koulikoff. — The wife of Alexis Petrovitch awaits your 
orders in the ante-chamber, Madame. 

Baroness (taking up embroidery).— Show her in at 
once, man ; don't delay, when you know that I am dying of 
curiosity. 

Koulikoff (aside).— Oh ! these fine ladies ! 

(Exit Koulikoff L. D.) 

Baroness.— I'm actually enjoying myself. Now for the 
real heroine of this pretty pastoral. 



52 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

(Enter Koulikoff L.D. leading Poleska, whose head 

is drooping, her eyes cast down.) 

Koulikoff (patronizingly). — Draw near, my good 

woman. Have no fear ; Madame la Baronne Vladimir, the 

sister and representative of our gracious master, deigns to 

receive you and listen to your story. 

Poleska (turning on hi?n haughtily). — That will do. 
Bring me a seat, and leave us. 

Koulikoff (aside). — Hoity-toity — bring me a seat — the 
most refreshing piece of impudence Koulikoff has encoun- 
tered yet. 

(He bustles round to back of sofa R. where Baro- 
ness sits. Poleska remains standing.) 
Poleska (aside bitterly).— He is right. I forget my sta- 
tion. 

(Baroness trifles negligently with her dress, leisurely 
adjusts her eye-glass, then bestows a stare upon 
Poleska.) 
Baroness (aside). — Upon my word, a remarkably good 
looking creature for a peasant ! (Aloud.) So it appears, my 
dear, that you have been trifled with. How very shocking ! 
For a man to trifle with a woman is to undermine the whole 
structure of society. For a woman to trifle with a man is 
quite another thing ! What is your name ? 
Poleska. — Poleska. 
Baroness. — And whence do you come ? 
Poleska. — From Buda, in Hungary. 
Baroness. — From Buda ! Is it possible ? Perhaps, then, 
you have chanced to hear of the distinguished General de 
Fermstein ? 

Poleska (C. starting, aside). — My father ! Can it be 
that she suspects me ? (Aloud.), Yes Madame. I knew him 
well. I — we — our family owe everything to his goodness. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 53 

Baroness. — How very odd ! Maybe you can give me 
some tidings of my new sister-in-law. I set out on my an- 
nual journey to Paris, just as my brother, the Count Woroff- 
ski, was beginning to talk about this beautiful Mile, de 
Fermstein, whom he had seen at a ball when in Baden. 
Like a good sister, I made it my business to find out every- 
thing disagreeable I could about the girl ; and I assure you it 
was not difficult. Such tales as they tell of her temper ! 
Well, I went off to Paris ; and on my return, recently, I re- 
ceived one of my brother's short, unsatisfactory telegrams, 
informing me that he proposed to marry Mile, de Fermstein 
on such a date, and would go to the Chateau immedi- 
ately, to pass his honeymoon. I always was an impetuous 
creature, and my husband, the Baron, decidedly disapproved 
of the whole business. So that was quite enough to make 
me start off at a moment's notice and take this long, miser- 
able journey. 

Poleska (much agitated). — Oh ! Madame, spare me. 
I — oh ! ( She bursts into tears, sits L.) 

Baroness (glass at eye ; astonished). — This girl is cer- 
tainly mad. Young woman, I must beg of you to restrain 
yourself. I am not accustomed to such emotional demon- 
strations from people in your rank of life. (Resumes.) Of 
course, under the present circumstances, my feelings towards 
Mile, de Fermstein are quite different ; I am prepared to 
meet her as a sister. (Aside to audience.) We all know 
what that means. (Aloud.) But that doesn't prevent your 
telling me any bits of gossip you may have heard about her 
— something light and spicy— a tiny indiscretion, you know. 
They do say she was not entirely to blame for her horrible 
temper. That her father, a weak old fellow, spoiled her 
from her cradle and worshipped the very ground she trod 
on. 



54 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

Poleska. — Oh, he did — he did. And you are right, she 
was not worthy of such love — the noblest, truest father that 
was ever cursed with an unhappy child. 

Baroness (eagerly). — Then you do know something 
against her ? This really becomes exciting. 

Poleska (rising, with dignity). — I know this, Madame, 
that her worst indiscretion has been bitterly punished by her 
terrible fate. Yes, Madame la Baronne, I am Poleska de 
Fermstein ; not the wife of your brother, as you and — 
Heaven help me — as I believed — but the victim of a foul 
conspiracy, by which I find myself married to a vile usurper 
of your brother's rank and name. The telegram to you was 
no doubt part of the plot. 

Baroness. — Can this be possible, Mademoiselle ; I mean, 
Madame ? 

Poleska. — Unfortunately, it is. Judge, therefore, whether 
I, Poleska de Fermstein, have not the right to claim of you 
and yours protection for myself — and — (between her teeth), 
punishment for him. (Goes up stage.) 

BARONESS (f aiming herself and using salts). — Horrible, 
horrible ! my dear, you make me really ill ! What a blow to 
society ! The villain— to dare to send me a telegram ! But 
pray tell me, child, what sort of a creature is this thief— this 
outlaw ; is he at all a good-looking fellow, perchance ? 

(Poleska 's eyes droop. Baroness turns to Koulikoff 
inquiringly. Koulikoff R. of sofa.) 

Koulikoff. — Y-e-s, Madame la Baronne, I am con- 
strained to admit that he is not ill-looking, and that he bears 
himself with astonishing coolness — the rogue. One would 
think he had been born to command — the scoundrel. 

Baroness. — Indeed ? Now, I begin to be really inter- 
ested. I must have him in, at once. My dear child, set your 
mind at rest. You are under my care, and if it will give you 




A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 55 

le least satisfaction, I will order your husband to be hanged 
upon the spot. 

Poleska (starting violently, her hand upon her heart). 
— Oh ! Madame la Baronne, not that, not that. 

Baroness. — Somebody ought to be hanged, I am sure. 
Gustave will be very much vexed if I don't hang somebody. 

Poleska. — Then take Ivan, the shoemaker, or your In- 
tendant there. I believe they are both in the plot. 

KOULIKOFF (knees knocking together). — Good Lord ! 

Poleska (beseechingly). — All I ask, Madame, is that 
you will send me back to my father. 

Baroness. — I will do better, my dear child. I will con- 
duct you there myself. What a sensation for society ! Mile, 
de Fermstein, the proudest beauty of the Court, married to a 
serf! 

Poleska. — What humiliation ! 

Baroness (eagerly). — I declare, I almost wish I were 
there already, to hear what people will say. But the main 
thing is, to dissolve the marriage. Of course there will be 
no difficulty in finding a plea for divorce. He — this AJexis — 
is rough and brutal ? Violent and cruel, eh ? 

Poleska. — He ? Ah, no, he is gentleness itself. 

Baroness. — Well, then, state your grievance as you 
please, only be quick about it. (Poleska re?nains silent.) 

Baroness. — Good Heavens ! girl, did I ever before see a 
wife at a loss for a grievance against her husband ? 

Koulikoff. — With submission, Madame la Baronne. 
Madame la Baronne perhaps forgets that the Count himself, 
without tedious processes of law is able to break the mar- 
riage of his serf. 

Baroness. — True ! they manage somethings far better 
here than in Paris ! How lucky for Mile, de Fermstein. Go, 
my dear, into my chamber ; draw up your petition for divorce, 



56 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

sign it and give it to me. The rest shall be speedily settled. 

POLESKA (reluctantly). — Y-e-e-s — Madame; but after- 
wards 

Baroness (?ni?nicking Poleska). — Afterwards ? What 
do you mean ? You are free. You return to your father. 
You will never see this wretch again. What more would 
you have ? 

Poleska. — And he — Gustave — Alexis, I would say — he 
will be at liberty to marry — again ? 

Baroness. — Certainly, and so will you, my dear, so cheer 
up. (A knock at L. D.) 

KOULIKOFF (aside). — That's the villain, the hero of all 
this rumpus. I locked him into the little blue cabinet an 
hour ago. (Aloud.) I forgot to say Madame la Baronne, 
that this man demanded to be shown to your presence, as if 
it were his right, confound him. 

POLESKA (going and returning impetuously). — Ah, 
Madame, see him. Talk to him. Console him, tell him I 
wish him no further ill, but tell him how unalterable is the 
resolution I have taken to see him no more — -I mean, the 
resolution I am about to take. 

(Exit Poleska in tears R. D. Baroness looks after 
her curiously and smiles.) 

Baroness. — Intendant, produce your prisoner. How 
nice it is to administer justice ! I am quite in the humor of 
the thing. And now to meet this bold, bad man ! I must be 
as stern and dignified as the situation demands. 

(Knocking continues.) 

KOULIKOFF (going slowly, opens L. D). What manners 
for a jail bird ! 

(Enter Alexis L. D. Baroness looks up, and utters 
a cry of astonishment, but is met by a warning 
gesture.) 




A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 57 

Baroness (aside). — My brother here, in peasant's garb ? 
Impossible ! 

Alexis. — Madame la Baronne, I beg of you to require 
this man to leave us. What I would say to you needs no 
witness. 

Koulikoff (swelling with rage). — Do you hear that? 
Madame la Baronne, I protest. 

Baroness (without looking at Koulikoff). — Leave us, 
fellow ! 

Koulikoff (to Alexis). — Leave us, fellow ! 

Alexis (menacingly). — Leave us, fellow ! 

(Koulikoff shrinks back.) 

Baroness. — Take pens, ink and paper, Koulikoff, to the 
young lady in my room. Remain outside until candles are 
required. 

Koulikoff (aside.)— He " fellow " me ! A miserable 
vassal I shall probably be called upon to knout before 
bed time. Won't I lay it on for this, though ? 

(Exit Koulikoff R. D.) 

Baroness (throwing herself in the arms of Alexis). — 
Gustave, my dear brother, you here, in this disguise ! What 
a comedy ! Oh ! I shall die of laughter ! 

Gustave. — I don't feel in the least like laughing, Leon- 
tine, I assure you. To be cooped up in that stuffy blue 
cabinet for an hour is no joke. 

Baroness. — This mystery — this adventure — delicious as 
it is, I don't in the least understand it. You have this mo- 
ment arrived ? 

Gustave. — I have been in the neighborhood for the past 
three days on business, which involves the happiness of my 
entire life. And your imprudence, my dear sister, has nearly 
ruined me — that's all. 

Baroness (laughing). — Ruined you! Are you, then, 



58 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

the hero of this little romance ? Oh ! this is too delicious for 
anything ! (Sits.) 

GUSTAVE (sitting on stool beside Baroness). — Leontine, 
I was married to Poleska de Fermstein a week ago. This is 
our honeymoon, and already I am the most miserable of 
men. 

Baroness (shrugging shoulders). — Are you surprised at 
that ? Gustave, dear, I am dying of impatience. Tell me 
the story in detail. 

Gustave. — You remember, Leontine, when I first fell 
passionately in love with Mile, de Fermstein, at a ball in 
Baden, and without even making her acquaintance, how I 
told you that she and no other should be my wife? 

Baroness. — Yes, and if I mistake not, I gave you some 
advice which you religiously failed to appreciate. 

Gustave. — Of what use is advice to a man who is in 
love ? Well, when, upon my next visit to Buda, I was pre- 
sented to her in form, I rushed more blindly to my fate. I 
would have her — I worshipped her madly — I — married her. 
Alas ! Her arrogance, her pride of rank, her scorn of 
inferiors are irrepressible. I soon saw that the welfare of 
our married life was at stake. I resolved to cure her ; and 
adopted a heroic remedy. Poleska's ardent desire to visit 
our newly acquired estates in this region gave me the oppor- 
tunity I desired. Poor Poleska ! It was a bitter cup I of- 
fered her to drink ! (He stops abruptly.) 

Baroness. — And now, you dear, odd, Quixotic Gustave 
— and now ? 

Gustave (sadly). — Now, hope has departed. My wife 
despises me. 

Baroness. — And it is to your naughty, mischief-making 
sister you owe the chief part of your trouble. For had I not 
sent so promptly to arrest you and your fellow villains, you 






A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 59 

might by this time have won over your Poleska to regard with 
complacency her future life spent in a hovel at your side. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Gustave. — I think she loves me, Leontine — did love me, 
at least, after her fashion. And as ill luck would have it 
just as I set the finishing touch to my structure of cards, 
down came the whole fabric crashing to the ground. 

Baroness (twirling her fan). — Gustave, with all your 
knowledge of society and of women, you are a very tyro in 
a matter of this kind. If I were not so sorry for you, poor 
boy, I should tell you that you deserve all you have got, for 
making such an experiment ; but I'll be merciful. What if 
I tell you a secret, Gustave ? What if I whisper in your ear 
that, in my opinion, Poleska is as much in love with you at 
this moment as you are with her ? 

Gustave. — Leontine ! My darling sister ! 

Baroness.— And if I prove it ? 

Gustave (kissing her hand). — Ah, Leontine, do not 
jest with me. Prove it and I forgive all. 

(Enter Koulikoff C. D. F. with candle. He stops, 
with exaggerated gestures of surprise, and backs 
out discreetly, finger on lip.) 

Koulikoff (aside). — Making love to the Baroness in 
ten minutes' time. I'll hurry off and tell his wife. One 
always likes to be the first to tell exciting news. W-h-e-w ! 

(Exit C. D. F.J 

Baroness (archly). — In the first place, she was not at 
all anxious to have you hanged. 

Gustave (shrugging shoulders.) — Is that all ? 

Baroness. — When I abused you, she took your part; 
that might have been through contradiction, to be sure. I 
have often done so myself. But when I proposed to annul 
your marriage on the spot, to my surprise she demanded 



60 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

time for reflection. She wavered — she wept — in short, Gus- 
tave, I believe that Poleska is on the brink of offering to share 
your fortunes, good or ill. 

Gustave. — You are in earnest, Leontine ? 
Baroness. — For once, yes. When a pretty woman de- 
mands time for reflection, it is safe to assume that she is 
about to commit a folly. 

Gustave.— If I could hope ! Oh ! my Poleska. Oh ! Le- 
ontine ! (Offers to embrace her.) 

Baroness. — Keep that for Poleska, my dear boy. I know 
the lover's liturgy by heart. Hark ! some one comes. 

(Enter Koulikoff R. D. pompously, bearing pa- 
per.) 
Koulikoff. — Madame la Baronne, I have the honor to 
present to you a paper this moment signed and committed to 
me by Mile, de Fermstein. 

(Koulikoff retires up. Baroness takes it eagerly, 

glances at it and looks with alarm at her brother. 

Gustave takes the paper from her and reads 

it.) 

Gustave. — All is over. Pride has conquered. This is 

the petition for our divorce, signed by Poleska with a firm 

hand. Let me not be behind her in courage. 

(He walks quickly to the table, writes and returns 
paper to the Baroness.) 
Gustave. — You will give this, signed by Gustave, Count 
de Woroffski, to Mile, de Fermstein without delay. . Her 
marriage with Alexis Petrovitch is annulled. It is my wish 
that the young lady be returned at once, in a style suitable to 
her rank, to her father, the General de Fermstein, and that 
you, Baroness, accompany her. (To Koulikiff, aloud.) 
Have a carriage made ready, and order servants to be in at- 
tendance upon these ladies. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 61 

Koulikoff (at C. D. F.)— And by whose authority, 
may I ask ? 

Gustave (L. stamping foot). — By whose authority, var- 
let ? By my — at least — with the gracious permission of 
Madame la Baronne. What is more, let them set at liberty 
my late master, Ivan, the shoemaker, with a purse of one 
hundred roubles, to make amends for his imprisonment. 

(Koulikoff looks in astonishment at Baroness.) 

Baroness. — Go, Koulikoff. These are my orders. 

(Koulikoff lingers, aghast). 

GUSTAVE (perceiving Koulikoff, angrily). — What, still 
here? Fifty blows of the knout for your own share — at 
least — with the gracious permission of Madame la Baronne. 

(Koulikoff fiies in dismay.) 

BARONESS (laying hand on Gustave s shoulder). — Gus- 
tave, dear, this is dreadful. If you would only see her once 
again, all would go well, I'm sure. 

Gustave. — Enough, Leontine. Go and make ready for 
your journey. Breathe no word to Poleska of my real rank 
and condition until you give her to her father's hand. I 
will prepare for you a letter to him, telling him all. When 
you have left the Castle, I will announce myself to my 
people. 

(Enter Poleska C. D. F. He leads Baroness to R. D, 
and parts from her affectionately. Poleska watches 
them.) 

Baroness (aside). — Thank Heaven, that I am not his 
wife ; and now for woman's wit ; one more expedient, before 
I lay my sceptre down. (Exit Baroness R. D.) 

Poleska. — It is true then, and Koulikoff did not deceive 
me. Already Alexis has sought consolation in another's 
smiles. ( She comes forward.) 

Gustave (perceiving Poleska, bows coldly). — You have 



62 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

decreed our separation, Mademoiselle, and the Count has 
signed the paper. You are freed forever from the tie you 
found so hateful. In a few moments you will leave behind 
the Chateau Woroffski and all the odious memories it 
contains. Alexis, the serf, passes out of your life like an 
evil dream, and perchance you will soon form an alliance 
worthy of your rank and expectations. 

Poleska. — You might have spared me that sneer. You 
make no account of my blighted life, the scorn and humilia- 
tion that await me. 

( Her head droops and she turns away to hide her 
tears.) 

Gustave (quickly). — Tears, Poleska? and I have 
brought them to your eyes. Oh ! pardon something to a 
man mad with the sense of loss. I am mad, I confess it, 
when I see you go from me, without a token of regret. 

(He takes her ha?id. Poleska draws back.) 

Poleska. — You mistake me for the Baroness, perhaps. 

Gustave (bewildered). — What do you mean? Leon- 
tine ? The Baroness Vladimir ? Ridiculous. 

Poleska (fiercely). — I might have pardoned all, Alexis, 
until I heard from Koulikoff and saw for myself what passed 
between you and one till now a stranger. 

Gustave (aside). — Jealous ! Thank Heaven ! (Aloud.) 
What you saw, Poleska, was no exhibition of mere gallantry, 
but of gratitude from the bottom of my heart to a noble lady 
who had promised to win back my wife for me. Now the 
protection she has offered me will avail little. Let the 
Count's sentence be what it may, fate can give me nothing 
worse than this. 

Poleska (at L.) — Sentence ! Great Heavens ! Alexis, 
are they going to do anything to you ? 

Gustave. — You can hardly suppose that the Count de 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 63 

Woroffski will allow to pass unpunished such audacity in his 
serf? Stripes, banishment, death perhaps. 

(Alexis withdraws to chair at table R. drops his 
head moodily on his hands without looking to- 
wards her.) 
POLESKA (screams). — Death— Oh ! Alexis — never ! 
never ! Let us escape together. I love you ! I cannot live 
without you I 

(She crosses the stage and throws herself 071 her knees 
at his side.) 
GUSTAVE (lifting her to her feet, claspi?ig her in his 
arms, then putting her from him). — Think twice, Poleska. 
He whose fortune you would share is no proud Count, but 
an humble peasant, and the life to which you would go, a life 
of toil and poverty. 

Poleska. — Let me fly, Alexis — no matter where, so that 
you are with me. Every moment's delay will endanger 
you. 

( They hurry towards C. D. F. and push it open to 
be met by Koulikoff, Ivan, Micheline, guards, and 
servants.) 
Koulikoff (to guards). — Arrest that fellow, and con- 
duct him without delay into the Count's chamber to await his 
sentence from Madame la Baronne. As for you, Mile, de 
Fermstein, your carriage waits, and Madame la Baronne de- 
sires your immediate attendance in her chamber. 

Poleska (her arm i?i that of Alexis). — Say to Madame 
la Baronne that I prefer to remain with my husband. 

Koulikoff (extending paper). — Begging your pardon, 
Mile, de Fermstein, you haven't any husband. Here is your 
decree of absolute divorce which Madame la Baronne di- 
rects me to hand to you. Move on, prisoner. 



64 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

(Gustave goes out C. D. F. with guards ; Poleska 
remai?is with arms outstretched towards him.) 

MlCHELlNE. — Oh, Madame, then they mean to make 
you a great lady once more whether you will or not. 

Koulikoff. — And pray what business have you to 
prate, malapert ? The Count's word is our law, and what 
the law decrees, let none gainsay. 

MlCHELlNE (scor?ifully). — And does the law expect her 
to forget her poor young husband in exile and in sorrow ? 
For after all, she wants him for her husband, and he wants 
her for his wife, and the law can't alter that, I suppose ? 

Koulikoff. — Hum ! I'm not so sure. Lawyers are 
very clever. 

MlCHELlNE (to Poleska, who is weeping upon her shoul- 
der). — Ah ! Madame, cheer up ! who knows but there are 
brighter days in store for you? If we could only manage to 
offer a big rouble taper to our Lady of Kazan ! Why — last 
week when I had quarrelled with Osip at the Fair, I set two 
little copeck candles only, before her shrine, and — and, the 
foolish lad was back again by Sunday. 

Ivan (coming forward). — Come, come, chatterbox. So 
our would-be Countess takes the opposite side. That's the 
way with you women. If I ever told my old woman to get 
up early, she'd lie abed three days at a stretch. If I wanted 
her to go to sleep, she'd sit on the stove and wag her tongue 
till daybreak. (Movement of disgust from Poleska.) 

Micheline. — Let be, let be, father; the poor thing has 
trouble enough, dear knows. 

(Enter Baroness R. D. dressed for traveling.) 

Baroness. — Come, Mile de Fermstein, my dear, this will 
never do. You have absolutely left yourself no time to re- 
turn to the garb of civilization. Micheline here, will attend 
you. Do go and make yourself presentable for our journey. 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 65 

Poleska. — No, dear Madame ; if you will only give me 
back Alexis I will never wear another dress than this. 

Baroness. — My dear child, this is simply ridiculous. You 
are soon to be away from this wretch who has deceived you. 
You will meet some other more worthy of your love ; and to- 
gether, one day, you will laugh at the poor fool who once 
risked his life to win you. 

Poleska. — Oh, Madame, have pity on me. Do you not 
see that I love him, that my only happiness would be to fol- 
low him to exile ? 

Ivan. — Well, as I'm a free man with a hundred roubles 
in my pocket, I do believe she wants him back again. 

Micheline. — Of course she does, father, and small blame 
to her, poor dear. 

Baroness (to Poleska, coldly). — Did you not, of your 
own free will, demand this separation ? 

Poleska. — Oh, I did, I did, in a moment of madness. 
Madame, you are a woman ; you can understand. 

Ivan. — If she can, I can't. 

MICHELINE (sighing).— I can. ( Wiping her eyes.) 
He's a beautiful young man. 

Baroness. — I have no longer the right. My brother has 
returned ; the matter has passed into his hands. The 
Count is at this moment going into the gallery to give audi- 
ence to his vassals. Stop crying, child, you will make a 
fright of yourself. If you say so, although it is contrary to 
custom, I will send word for him to come here. You will 
see what a brother I have — so grand — so noble — and above 
all, so just. What say you ? Shall I send for him ? 

Poleska.— Yes. Stay! What shall I do? What say 
to him ? 

Baroness. — Whatever your heart prompts. 



66 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

POLESKA. — Do you think he will be merciful ; that he will 
give me back Alexis ? 

Baroness. — Perhaps. He has a very feeling heart. 
Poleska. — Then send for him. On my knees will I im- 
plore him. 

BARONESS (goes to table, writes hurriedly, rings bell ; 
enter attendant R. D.J. — See that the Count Woroffski re- 
ceives this, at once. (Exit attenda7it R. D.J 

Koulikoff — The Count! He has arrived without my 
knowing it. Let me fly in search of my keys. 

(Exit Koulikoff C. D. F. March music heard 
back. J 
Baroness (to Poleska. J — He is coming ! Remain there. 
(Points to back. J When I summon you to come forward — 
you know the rest. 

(Poleska retires back. Enter peasants and servants. 
Groups right and left. Baroness Vladimir goes 
about, receives greetings and salutes. Last of all, 
enter Gustave, Count de Woroffski, dressed in 
rich uniform, with orders, etc. March ceases. 
Soft music during this scene. J 
Gustave. — You sent for me, Madame la Baronne? 
Baroness. — I did. (Aside to him. J Hope! Love has 
conquered. 

Gustave (aside J. — Thank Heaven ! 

(Baroness motions to Poleska, who comes forward, 
and without looking uj> throws herself upon her 
knees as the Count approaches. J 
Poleska (offering paper J. — Count de Woroffski, I be- 
seech you to destroy this fatal paper, divorcing me from 
Alexis Petrovitch. I retract my appeal for separation. What- 
ever be his sentence I ask you to let me share it. He is good 
and noble, and he has my whole heart. I only, through my 



A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 67 

wicked folly, have exposed him to this degradation, and my 
life's love shall atone for the wrong I have done him. 

( The Count impetuously tears the paper and throws 
it away.) 
Gustave. — And should I condemn him and you to 
exile ? 

POLESKA (kissing his hand). — Thanks, my lord Count ; a 
thousand thanks. Add one thing only to your bounty ; re- 
store to me my husband. 
Gustave (C). — Look up, Poleska, he is here. 

(Poleska looks up, utters a cry and flies into his em- 
brace.) 
Baroness (at L. C). — It is your sister's turn now, 
Poleska. ( They embrace.) It is true that I hardly expect to 
be forgiven for my share in Gustave's experiment, though 
there is one thing to comfort you, my child ; you will have 
henceforth, every opportunity to punish him as he de- 
serves. 

Poleska (R. C.).— I, Madame la Baronne ? 
Baroness (laughing). — Yes, for is he not your hus- 
band ? 

(Enter Koulikoff L. D. in haste and confusion, bear- 
ing the keys of the Castle on a tray. He kneels 
with great humility before the Count.) 
Koulikoff. — Monseigneur, I, your Intendant. (Looks 

up.) Good Lord ! the insolent vassal ! 

Count. — Yes, Koulikoff, the same, who, in this moment 
of supreme happiness, is weak enough to forgive you the 
knouting you deserve— at least — (glances at Baroness), with 

the gracious permission of Madame 

Baroness (motioning towards Poleska). — Of Madame 
la Comtesse. ( Koulikoff retires in confusion.) 

Count. — Come hither, friend Ivan, shoemaker and philos- 



68 A RUSSIAN HONEYMOON. 

opher. What ! not even a proverb ready to answer me with ? 
(Sla^s him on shoulder.) As for little Micheline, the 
sooner she finds a husband, the larger dowry will I bestow 
on her. 

(Micheline kisses Poles ka's hand gratefully. As 
she retires, Ivan pats her head, calls up Osip and 
joins their hands in dumo show.) 
Count. — And now, Poleska, if any one should tremble, 
it is I. How can you ever pardon me ? 

Poleska (archly). — You forget that Monseigneur has al- 
ready pardoned my Alexis. 

Count (kneeling at her feet).— Then may Poleska par- 
don Monseigneur. 

Curtain. 






o ■*. 















vV r> 



Oo, 



,* V s 






* <r- 


















^ ^ 






v> ,v 









-. 












"a K 












= 









<r 













8Br\ 









' 



^o^ 



OO 1 






- 












\: 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




009 781 842 3 



I \ ■ 



,V 



I 



i 



i 



LIBRAE OF CONGRESS 



II 111 II 111 nil" ' 
009 781 842 3 



/ 



